


Seeking a Soul

by 4vrAFangirl



Series: Analysis: Salarian-Human Relationship Potential [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Asexual Character, Gen, Imprinting, Paragon Commander Shepard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 17:30:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6479653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4vrAFangirl/pseuds/4vrAFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is a failure.</p><p>He is given a clan name as a kind of cruel joke, a reminder of what he is, or rather perhaps, what he will never be, because in fact there are no others in the Mordin clan. Of the countless brothers hatched from the same clutch, none will bear the name, the mark of Mordin, as he will. He is, although through no fault of his own, an outcast from the moment he emerges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeking a Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [afangirlreadsfics](http://www.afangirlreadsfics.tumblr.com)

He is given a clan name as a kind of cruel joke, a reminder of what he is, or rather perhaps, what he will never be, because in fact there are no others in the Mordin clan. Of the countless brothers hatched from the same clutch, none will bear the name, the mark of Mordin, as he will. He is, although through no fault of his own, an outcast from the moment he emerges. So many, and just another routine hatching of males-important certainly, but nowhere near as carefully watched over as female hatchings. A Dalatrass, newly instated to the position of power and influence, does not notice the single jittery egg whose energetic movements have it bouncing and rolling away from the others. It is a wonder in fact that this egg should have hatched at all; that it wasn’t crushed beneath a boot, or too traumatized by its experience before hatching to be viable, terminated by the many unknowing feet that kicked it along half a dozen corridors, through many hydraulic and pressurized doors, before finally coming to a stop to rest beside a table of lab equipment and a weapons locker, rooms and indeed miles away from its siblings and the Dalatrass they are all intended to bond with when he breaks free of his shell.

He is a failure.

The tiny lost Salarian hatchling will eventually be given the clan name of Mordin punches a tiny three-digit hand through the casing that has housed and protected him. Another hand compromised of the same long thin fingers joins the first slowly and with tremendous effort pushing, pulling, breaking a larger hole, pushing away pieces of shell to make way for a tiny head dappled in shades of white, peaches, and cool sepia. Large black eyes blink once, twice, vision slowly coming into focus, taking in his surroundings, and finding no one; nothing but a few pistols, and rifles, and a table full of technical and scientific tools, and the blood-red of the setting sun beyond a thick window. There is not a single living being around when Mordin is forming his first impressions of the world around him. Without anyone to have imprinted upon, no one which he might be assured of being loyal to as his brothers now have; without a soul around when Mordin is forming his first impressions, he is declared to be without a soul. Soulless. Solus.

Given the circumstances and uncertainty one logical conclusion might have been to avoid naming the wretch at all, and simply disposing of him. Fortunately for this newly established life, Salarians are by their very nature a curious and scientific lot. So the one they call Solus is named, allowed to live, as a kind of curious case study into a Salarian without an imprint. Afterall it is at least statistically possible that this hatchling will be one of those that doesn't survive long into infancy, which would negate any concerns about his loyalties or potential instability. But much like his miraculous escape and survival even before hatching, Mordin Solus continues to defy the odds and expectations of both his superiors, and his peers

He is still a bit... Twitchy, restless, even by Salarian standards, preferring tables to desks, and standing to sitting, the ability to move about while being instructed; but even with such eccentricities he is an indisputably brilliant pupil. He shows from a very early age many interests, and more importantly skills in various disciplines, but the circumstances of his birth continue to haunt the young Salarian, making him particularly difficult to place.

He's an incredibly skilled shot, and even more unparalleled with his omni-tool and blade. He has the combat skills of a great soldier, and the mental acuity to make him well-suited for the Special Tasks Group. Unfortunately without an imprint-no master but his own logic and will- the fact of the matter remains Mordin could potentially be as dangerous to his fellow squad members as the enemy. Only time can tell. But in a species that lives little better than a May-Fly's lifespan amongst those that live centuries, time is a precious commodity. So this strange Salarian specimen pursues other, less guarded venues, dedicating his life to science and knowledge, and now and then dabbling in various dramatic and more artistic endeavors.

It is difficult to say just how much influence the burden of his imposed clan name may have had on the young Salarian, but he keeps largely to himself, and despite his incredibly fast speech patterns, rather despises most small talk. Nobody thinks much of, wants anything to do with, or trusts a Salarian without some kind of imprint or bond to a clan, or at the very least their race at large, but if the scientist is at all bothered by this he certainly doesn't show it. Mordin is determined to study, experiment and take risks, to find some way of proving himself and his worth to the world at large that has all but written him off.

He's too old by half (nearing middle-age in fact) to make a true career of the STG when the powers that be seem to have finally decided that while on the whole he makes decisions based on his own logic and ethical guidelines rather than falling in line with any other clan or Dalatrass, they are sound enough in principle to be trusted. Perhaps a species with more time to burn might hold a grudge. Certainly by now Mordin Solus has established himself with his scientific breakthroughs he could reject the offer and continue on his current path, but a shot at seeing other worlds, getting to test out and use an entirely different set of skills? He’s long since dealt with any bitterness or resentment for his fellow Salarian’s wariness and distrust, and it’s simply too good an opportunity to pass up.

It’s a good thing too: being at the forefront when it comes to light that the Krogan are adapting to the Genophage. True, there are already plenty of sharp minds hard at work on the problem, but altering an already existing virus, making sure not to destroy the entire race, it’s no easy task, and someone else might have gotten it wrong.

He’s getting old, perhaps that’s why the doubts begin to creep in. The Genophage was the most logical decision based on the information they had at the time, but forcing himself to go back whenever it was necessary to check on Tuchanka has made the results of his work so much more real than any hypotheses or calculations in a lab ever could. The Krogan’s grief over children that will never be, their hate, their despair… He tries to explore various religions for answers, but can never seem to truly embrace any of them. It is a pleasant thought embraced by many of his race, and indeed many species in the galaxies, to think of life as a kind of wheel, that there will be more time, other opportunities to create, to atone, but it never quite becomes more than that for Mordin, no matter how much he may wish for it; a pleasant thought, occasionally a hope, but never fully a belief. Too risky. Too little proof. He must make do with the time that he has to make and to make up for what he has done and failed to do in his time so far. So if perhaps his conscience is as much responsible for his relocation to open a clinic on Omega and work on the plague as scientific curiosity, well that's nobody's business but Mordin's.

He expects to spend the rest of his days in these slums. To pass more or less as he came into the world: unmarked by his own. His new human assistant Daniel might miss him, he is a good kid if still a bit idealistic and naïve about the way of the world; but he predicts he will be largely forgotten. Apart from his work on adapting the Genophage, his other accomplishments, while numerous are not so unique that only he could have accomplished them. Even his cure for the plague will cease to be important or noted given enough time. The only other remarkable thing about him now, besides the circumstances of his hatching, is that he has lived as long as he has- an old man by his species' standards. He'd call it spite for their mistrust and underestimating him if he had any. Perhaps irony.

What he does not expect is the small, intense-looking, and well-armed young human woman that enters his lab seeking his help. Bright blue eyes search his, while her short scarlet hair gleams, appearing almost iridescent under the dim lights and flood lamps that illuminate the clinic.

She's beautiful, he thinks, before abruptly halting his pacing and blinking several times in surprise at this spontaneous thought.

She doesn't know of course, never having met or interacted with him before, that his stream of babbling to himself while trying to determine her identity and purpose here is a little more harried than usual. It would almost be a small blessing that his assistant isn't here to notice it if he weren't concerned about him running into the Vorcha or Blue Suns battling it out in the streets. Daniel would almost certainly have noticed the subtle tells of just how much she's disarmed him without even trying to. Wonder what he would say about it.

Mordin is fully capable of appreciating something beautiful, of course. The Salarian has a lifelong appreciation and respect for many different cultures, eras, and genres of music, dance, and various kinds of performance art as a means of expression and studying the various social aspects of a species. But nearly everything he has ever done or enjoyed have been through this sort of scientific lens, for the purpose of study, research, and knowledge. His immediate appreciation for the young woman in front of him is entirely illogical; he knows absolutely nothing about her. Intrigue with the introduction of this new variable he could certainly understand, but while that's certainly present, he cannot escape a niggling sense that this is something more, something deeper, instinctive, and altogether more important than mere curiosity. He knows even before he requests her help finding Daniel, and dispersing his cure that he will join her, that he would follow her anywhere, which is both inexplicable and unnerving. Mordin Solus is many things, but he has never been one to jump into anything blindly or without good reason. What makes Shepard an outlier?

The doctor does his best to keep a professional front and distance between himself and the Commander once he has joined her crew. He's done a bit of reading and research on her now, even seen her in action, and knows her to be a very strong and capable leader, one who commands and certainly deserves respect and loyalty, but it's still somewhat alarming how readily he is willing to offer up his own. Without a doubt it merits further introspection and independent study.

But Shepard is determined it seems to get to know and understand each member of her team, including their resident scientist. It wouldn't be accurate to say that she imposes herself, as that would imply her presence is unwanted. The Salarian finds that while he has never been particularly good at and generally frustrated or annoyed with small talk, Mordin doesn't mind chatting with the Commander while working on his various experiments so much as he expected to, and suspects that at times he may even be enjoying it. Unexpected.

It seems, however, with Shepard the safest hypothesis one can make is to expect the unexpected. She is an incredible soldier, though not because she derives any pleasure from killing anyone (although she is very good at doing so when circumstances deem it necessary), but because of her fierce desire to protect those who cannot protect and stand up for themselves. It's little wonder then that Cerberus was willing to disregard whatever unseen fortune it must have cost to being her back; Shepard seems to be the patron saint of the underdogs and impossible battles.

And despite the fact that the Alliance largely believes she is dead and refuse to support her, while still simultaneously asking for her aid, she is unflinchingly loyal. She believes in the Alliance's principles, and seems to accept the adage 'only human' even where other species like the Council representatives are concerned. Cerberus and the Illusive Man may have given her a second chance to fight and the means to do so, but it's clear they haven't earned that same level of faith and devotion from her yet. That's fair enough though, Mordin is too old and experienced to be lulled into thinking there aren't more personal motives at work being kept from them, he isn't here exclusively (or even primarily) for Cerberus' benefit either.

Her name suits her. Shepard is unfailingly kind, and as impartial as she can be, while still upholding her sense of right and wrong. The Batarian she helped on the way to his clinic is proof enough of that. Cerberus have healed any of the old scars she bore before her rebirth, those hard-earned proofs of her fight and indomitable will to survive, but he's read the files now, seen the pictures. The public knew the image of Commander Shepard with her split eyebrow and the raised scarred slash over running over her left eye, but it was far from the only mark her would-be slaving captors made on her before the Alliance busted the ring and rescued her. She is a marvel, he thinks.

Despite having every reason to have taken a completely different path and attitude in life. She forgives and offers second chances to many others might deem less than deserving of them, and is fiercely protective of those she cares about. And somehow- incredibly, and quite without truly meaning to, he seems to have become such an individual for her.

She's made it clear from the beginning that she didn't agree with the Salarian and Turians decision to create and use the Genophage to suppress and control the Krogans. An opinion she continues to assert where it was relevant to do so. And yet, she's listened patiently, without interruption, whenever he attempted to explain their reasoning, his own roles in it all, and never made him to feel unfairly judged or that she thought any less of him for it. She understood, even attempted to comfort him, when they found the dead female Krogan while searching for his old student.

Mordin hadn't been thinking straight, not entirely at least; pulling the gun after their walk through the atrocities some in the old hospital, with the realization of how far Maelon has fallen, that he did all this willingly, was nearly instinctive. She didn't have to stop him. It's not the first time that he has killed, and it's still possible as quickly as Salarians in general, and he himself process emotions and events that he might have found a way to make peace with Maelon's death at his hands, but she's right. He's no more a murderer than she is. He drops the gun back to his side and watches the younger, lost scientist flee, and at her urging saves his data. It's unconscionable what his former pupil has done here, but perhaps, just maybe, there may be time for him to study and put the pain and suffering these females endured to good use. Perhaps if they survive this mission, he may still have enough time left to atone and leave this world without quite so many regrets, to find his soul.


End file.
